Son
by Dawn1000
Summary: Of all the children under Galatea's care, the boy called Elliot is the one who makes the biggest place for himself in her heart.


Galatea stands by Sister Madge as the orphans of Rabona play in the snow. They thrash about on the cold ground, shouting and whooping, and the nun smiles.

She'd let them play by the church for a bit longer if she could, but it's too cold for humans- let alone children- to be out for very long.

Calling to them, she feels her yoki flux slightly, pleased by how quickly the children snap to attention. They run back to her, soured by the prospect of leaving the snow, but Galatea promises them sweets when they return, and all discontent is swiftly forgotten.

As the woman of God herds her little shadows back inside, something catches her attention.

A little bundle lays in the grass, wrapped up in cloth. It shifts, and Galatea's sightless eyes widen.

She orders Sister Madge to keep watch over the children and makes her way to the bundle. Picking it up, a cerulean gaze peers back up at her.

The babe in the nun's arms is cold; shockingly so. It's a miracle it isn't dead yet.

Galatea's yoki flares, and her jaw clenches.

Who would leave their child out in the cold on such a day as this? Or any day at all?

The babe, as if sensing her fury, begins to wail.

Its pale arms fling away from its sides and its legs kick out. At the contact of small feet hitting her forearm, the woman of God smiles.

Carefully, she walks along the path leading back to the orphanage. She draws the babe close to her chest, trying to warm it.

As she reaches the sturdy oak doors, Sister Lea gapes.

"Sister Latea!" she cries. "Is that a child?"

Galatea nods grimly.

She takes the babe inside and relieves it of the wet cloth it adorns. Sister Lea brings in a small set of clothes that little Timothy outgrew just last month, and she dresses the child.

The babe- now confirmed to be a boy- is brought close to a fire.

Galatea rests him on the wooden floor boards as a wet-nurse is summoned, and she guards him.

She cannot see him, not literally, but in the past three years since she deserted the Organization and cut out her eyes, her sensing ability has improved astronomically.

The nun 'watches' the babe as he squirms in his blankets. His head of wispy dark hair is new, and judging by his size, Galatea would say he's a few days old at the most.

The doors push open and Sister Lea enters the room, the wet-nurse in tow. Galatea hands the babe over.

After he's had his fill, he begins to cry softly. His little hands reach out for the blind nun, and she takes him back, bemused.

"He's taken a liking to you," Sister Lea says.

Galatea hums in response.

"So, what would you like to name him? You found him, after all."

The other nun freezes for a moment, taken by surprise. She cajoles the little creature in her arms and inclines her head to him.

"Elliot," she decides eventually. "After my father."

* * *

For the next few weeks, Galatea doesn't see much of the babe. Her days are full of teaching the older children to read, and entertaining the little ones and Elliot is too young to be with the rest.

She manages to visit him once or twice, but that's about all she sees of the boy she christened after her father.

One day, as she's teaching little Martha how to spell her name, Sister Madge enters the study area. The ginger nun is not typically an educator, preferring to work with the very youngs, but Galatea doesn't question it.

Sister Madge approaches her, and she nods in greeting.

"Sister Madge," Galatea murmurs.

"Sister Latea," is the response.

The former number three turns her head fully to the other nun. She asks what she's doing here. Sister Madge's face flushes.

"Well, everyone's noticed how hard you've been working, and how much you adore little Elliot. I just figured we could swap duties for a day so you could spend some time with him."

Galatea smiles broadly and thanks her. Then she gently removes Martha's fingers from the hem of her dress, bids the children a quick goodbye, and makes her way to the nursery.

There, Elliot is waiting.

His hair has grown out more, and darkened. It's as black as ink now. His skin is pale and smooth, and his eyes just as blue as before. He's larger now, heavier, and Galatea grunts with surprise as she lifts him. She pokes his belly and smirks at the roundness of it.

"I think," she coos, "That you've been being spoiled, little one."

Then she stops in her tracks.

Did she truly just _coo? _

Galatea adores the children at the orphanage, of that there's no question. But she's never cooed at any of them before. In fact, the last time she ever doted on a babe like this was when she was staring down at her little nephew all those years ago.

Her yoki spikes up.

_Stop. Don't go down that path._

The grief that passes through the nun at the memory of her family is dull, but no less devastating. She's had her time to mourn- God knows that- but for a moment she's still left breathless.

Galatea is brought back to the present when she feels her hair being yanked. Frowning, she notices Elliot has grabbed a long strand of it and bunched it up in his tiny fist.

Sighing, she rocks him in her arms, careful not to upset him.

"Let go, little one," the former number three croons. "You don't want to hurt good Sister Latea, do you?"

In response, Elliot begins to nibble at her hair, and he grips the strand tighter.

Galatea takes a hold of his hand and, very carefully, pries his fingers away from his palm. Once her hair is free, the babe gives a huff of displeasure.

"My Lord, you _have _been spoiled."

Elliot just buries himself further into her hold, and his breath comes out in little puffs against the crook of her arm.

The woman holding him smiles, and something warm blooms in her chest.

* * *

It's been nine months since little Elliot was first brought to the orphanage, and Galatea is facing the current predicament of being fought over by him and an envious Martha.

The woman of God raises her sightless eyes up to the heavens for a moment and sighs.

"Stop," she orders. "Martha, I'll take a walk with you now. When I get back, I'll spend time with Elliot."

The redheaded girl nods, satisfied, but the babe doesn't seem to understand.

He wails as Galatea stands, his hands reaching out to her.

The nun pats his head and kisses his cheek before slipping on her shoes. He crawls to her foot and holds onto it.

Galatea scowls.

"Let go, Elliot."

The babe doesn't.

Instead, he begins to lift himself up, using her leg for balance.

Galatea is sorely tempted to pull the limb away but she resists the urge.

Elliot pulls himself up to his feet and the nun takes her chance to back away from him.

He takes a step towards her.

Galatea just stands there, gaping at his newfound ability. Then, she takes another step back.

Elliot moves forward.

She steps back.

He steps forward.

They continue this pattern a few more times before Galatea gives up. She throws her head back and laughs.

"You're a determined little one," she says.

The nun picks Elliot up and bounces him lightly. The babe shoots an almost-smirk at Martha. Galatea bops his nose.

"Now, now," she reprimands. "Be good to Martha."

He pouts but rests his head on her shoulder, a silent submission.

Galatea and Martha head outside, the former still carrying him, and enjoy the beautiful day God has blessed them with.

* * *

Galatea is telling Sister Allie how quickly Elliot has learned to read when a dark look passes across the other woman of God's face. The former number three stops speaking and waits for her to get whatever she has to say off her chest.

"There are rumors, you know," Sister Allie murmurs, "About your boy."

Galatea's yoki fluctuates. She takes a deep breath.

"What rumors?"

Sister Allie flinches at her sharp tone. She ducks her head and toys with the hem of her sleeves, but then leans closer to Galatea until her mouth is right by the blind nun's ear.

"Young Elliot looks very much like Brother Adrian- and we all know the latter is not as pure as he would like others to believe."

A growl escapes from Galatea's lips. She bites her tongue, and the metallic taste of blood seeps into her mouth. Her teeth have sharpened, she notes with alarm. Already, her gums gums are stretching, urging her to unleash more of her yoki.

"I'm sure you're not implying what I _think _you are," the former number three says, her tone cold as ice.

Sister Allie regards her warily.

"All I'm saying," she replies, "Is that it would make sense. Think about it: why would Elliot's mother not just bring him straight to the orphanage? Why leave him to die? The answer is simple: the child wasn't just born out of wedlock, but also sin! She tempted Brother Adrian, a man of God, and little Elliot is the result of that unholy union!"

For a precise moment, Galatea can picture her fist flying through the air, crashing into Sister Allie's head. She imagines the bones crunching, blood streaming across the floor, and a pained scream echoing throughout the hall.

Then the former number three feels the veins in her right arm begin to pop and her eyes widen with shock.

In her six years in hiding, never has her yoki reacted so violently!

She tucks the limb behind her back and sneers at Sister Allie.

"I would encourage you," she warns, "Not to spread any more falsities."

With that, she spins on her heel, turning her back to Sister Allie, and heads to the chapel where she knows she'll be able to get a hold of herself.

* * *

As Galatea tells the story of Jesus's sermon at Mount of Beatitudes to Elliot, the little one begins to nod off. His head drops to his pillow and he lets out a noisy yawn.

Galatea smiles. She stops weaving her tale and pulls the covers over the four year old before her. As she does so, he grips her hand as tightly as he can.

"Time to sleep, Elliot," the woman of God whispers.

"M'kay. Love you mama."

Galatea freezes.

Then the little one falls asleep, still holding her hand, and all she can hear is the sound of his breathing and the frantic beats of her heart.

Mama, Elliot called her.

Well, she _is_ the closest thing he has to a mother; it makes sense he would adopt her as such.

She touches his head and runs her fingers through his curly locks.

"I love you too, son."

The words are so soft that Galatea thinks she never even uttered them for a moment. But the word 'son' feels so _right _when regarding Elliot. It makes her feel warm and human and _alive. _She loves the other children- bless their hearts- but this little boy is special. He makes everything feel so _perfect._

Of course, Galatea knows everything is far from that.

She's sensed yoki, recently, flaring up in Rabona. Its owner's aura is powerful; the woman of God won't be able to take her alone. Not to mention, she can already sense two of the Organization's warriors heading her way. It seems she has payed for her loss of control concerning Sister Allie.

Galatea sighs, and stands.

No matter what comes next, she can only hope the little boy who bares her father's name will stay safe. If something were to happen to him-

Galatea doesn't finish that thought.

When the time comes, she will fight for every person in Rabona.

But when she is on the verge of awakening, or staring into the faces of those sent to kill her, or striking out at the Awakened One who roams through the Holy City, it will be Elliot who she pictures.

She will see the face of her son.


End file.
